


To Forget Time, to Forgive Life

by hoHbOi



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Firebending & Firebenders, Folklore, Gen, Hei Bai - Freeform, Hei Bai Forest, Memory Loss, Spirit AU, Spirit World, Spirit Zuko, Spirits, agni - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24310504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoHbOi/pseuds/hoHbOi
Summary: This forest should have had no part in the wars of humans. Spirits don’t involve humans in spirit affairs, why should Zuko have to clean up after inconsiderate humans that don’t know how to fucking respect nature. He curses humans a lot too. Confusing humans, that build a shrine for the Hei Bai spirit and then burn down the whole forest. He mostly stays away from humans.He, of course, does know that he was human once too. Not that he really understands it. But when he first woke up Agni had said Zuko died a human and came back a spirit. That was three years ago. He still doesn’t remember anything before it. He thinks, that to be at all human, you have to remember being human. He doesn’t think he is at all human.
Comments: 41
Kudos: 330
Collections: A:tla





	1. Introduction

The Hei Bai forest is burned. Remains of trees are black and stab sharply across the land. The earth is dark too, but not the good kind of dark. Not rich soil, dark with nutrients. Dark from a layer of charcoal and charred brush covering dried out soil. Nothing can grow across the scarred land. Not yet.

Zuko curses the soldiers that burned their way across the Earth kingdom. He curses them to Agni and back, because he can. He decided that once you’ve met a spirit you can use their name however you feel. Especially when said spirit is the one that stuck him with such a rotten task. _Heal_ _Hei_ _Bai forest._ Look at the state it’s in! That’s going to take decades, if not centuries to recover completely!

This forest should have had no part in the wars of humans. Spirits don’t involve humans in spirit affairs, why should Zuko have to clean up after inconsiderate humans that don’t know how to fucking respect nature. He curses humans a lot too. Confusing humans, that build a shrine for the Hei Bai spirit and then burn down the whole forest. He mostly stays away from humans.

He, of course, does know that he was human once too. Not that he really understands it. But when he first woke up Agni had said Zuko died a human and came back a spirit. That was three years ago. He still doesn’t remember anything before it. He thinks, that to be at all human, you have to remember being human. He doesn’t think he is at all human. 

Zuko knows very little of what he was before. Only what he has been told. Agni said Zuko died when he was thirteen. Zuko is sixteen now. When he realized he grew another several inches, he’d asked Agni, _“_ _Why do I keep growing_ _older? No other spirits do._ _”_ He asked a lot of questions; he hadn’t known much about spirits. Or about anything. He still doesn’t.

 _“_ _A spirit can change their form at will. If you are growing older, it is because you wish to do so_ _.”_ That had made sense; who wants to look thirteen forever?

Another thing Zuko knew was that he died from being burned on his face. He had the scar to prove it. Sometimes he is glad he can’t remember his life, because the memory of his death would surely haunt him. He also knows he doesn’t have to have the scar, not if he can really change his form. But he does have it so he must want it there. That made sense too; if his mind couldn’t remember, at least his face should.

Zuko knew he had been a fire bender. He must have been, for Agni to choose him. And he still is now, but in a different way. When he was alive, he had used it for sparring and competition. He could tell because his body still remembered the forms. He practiced them sometimes, in the forest. But it felt wrong to throw the fire around in a place already so harmed by it.

Now, most of the fire he uses is gentle. Warm, not hot. For healing, not harm. The first thing Agni had taught him was that fire is life. It wants to take and destroy and _burn_ _,_ yes. But more than that it wants to warm and grow and _live_ _._ Zuko finds it ironic that he only learned this once he himself was no longer alive. 

But the fire he bends is. It’s not like any fire a human could ever make. It’s red and orange and yellow, but also green and purple and pink. It swirls together, burning, taking, beating like a heart. When he wraps his hands in it and thrusts them into the earth, he can feel the damage and he can let the life of his fire flow into it, filling it. He plants acorns in the damp, nutrient-rich soil left behind. it’s rewarding. He’s been at it for two years and the trees he planted in the beginning are proud saplings now.

It’s slow work, he can only heal a couple square meters a day. And it’s hard work. The fires he burns drain his energy. When he first began, he was so weak that the moment Agni descended below the horizon he would lose the power to manifest in the mortal world at all. He still returns to the spirit world most nights, but he no longer needs Agni in the sky to anchor him to either realm. 

He spent his first year of spirithood exploring the spirit world with Agni above his head, guiding him and answering questions when needed. He still doesn’t know why Agni chose him, but he is grateful. He saw so much and learned so much that he never could have as just a human. Once he asked, _“_ _Were_ _other_ _spirits_ _once human?”_

 _“_ _Some_ _, but_ _you are few and far between_ _.”_ Zuko had then wanted to ask, _why me_ _?_ But that question had never been answered before and it wouldn’t be now either.

 _“_ _Where do spirits come from then?”_ he had asked instead.

_“_ _Nowhere. Where does the sun come from? Or the ocean? Or a mountain, or the_ _forest at its base? They do not come from anywhere, they just are_ _, as they always have been_ _.”_

_“_ _So_ _,_ _there was never a time before spirits?_ _”_

_“Yes, my child._ _Us_ _spirits are the energies of the universe. We are the_ _great_ _ebb and flow of_ _cosmic energy_ _just as we are the_ _protectors of the mortal world’s natural state_ _._ _”_ It was generous for Agni to say we when Zuko was just an ant next to a mountain. Yet Agni kept going. _“_ _Like the_ _other side of the same coin, the spirit world not only balances the mortal, but_ _protects_ _and supports it_ _. In return_ _the mortal world anchors us._ _A forest spirit needs its forest,_ _or it could fade and twist beyond recognition._ _Without the sun journeying across the_ _sky in the other realm, I would not be_ _as I am_ _._ _”_

 _“_ _Then what is my anchor?”_ Zuko hadn’t ever thought of it before. All the spirits he had met had each had their own thing. They were all ‘spirit of’ something. What was he?

_“_ _You are_ _special in this case. And lucky. You carry your anchor with you, nothing_ _left behind_ _to protect_ _or confine you._ _You were burned as a mortal. A deep wound that scarred both your face and your spirit._ _I healed you when you arrived_ _, but_ _both scars remain._ _Because they were inflicted upon a human_ _they count as an anchor to the mortal world, but because they were inflicted_ _on you, you can carry them with you_ _.”_

Zuko had taken a while to process that. That conversation had only been a few months after he awoke. He had never thought much of his scar, not like he remembered the pain. And he spent his time surrounded by spirits who come in all shapes and sizes. Agni himself took the form of a dragon for their conversations. And all the spirits he spoke to laughed at him for wearing a human form, saying all humans looked the same to them. Zuko didn’t know how to change forms, not yet. Not that he cared.

He couldn’t remember his own life in the mortal world, but he could remember other things about it. He knew that scars were just something that happened to people. That everyone had them, even if his was probably a lot worse than most. But then why he had become the spirit of scars? Or maybe it was burns. Or burn scars. When he’d finally asked Agni which it was, he’d been told, _“_ _Those are c_ _lose. You are the spirit of healing all such things_ _._ _”_

At the end of that year Agni had told him he was ready to go out into the mortal world. He had to do as spirits do and protect and restore life in nature. His first task was the Hei Bai forest.

From sunrise to sunset each day he would wreath his hands in flame and share his life with the earth. Each day it, slowly, gave back. Each night Zuko returned to the spirit world, until he didn’t have to. Once he could stay the night, Zuko would lie on his back and stare at the sky that should have been blocked by a forest.

Two years passed. The forest healed, so slowly, with Zuko’s help. He was alone and weak and two years deep in an impossible task without almost nothing to show for it, but he was at peace. It felt right, what he was doing. Like he was where he was supposed to be. The forest had been burned, badly. And it had left a scar. So Zuko was there to heal, as was his duty. As he was the spirit of.

And it was pretty nice, as far as impossible tasks go. For two years he worked on it and learned to love the feeling of earth coming to life in his hands. Learned the sounds of the forest, the way it changed when you moved about it. He watched sunsets and cursed everything to Agni just so the old dragon wouldn’t forget him. He scared foolish humans out of the forest he was healing. Humans who couldn’t see him but could see the fire he threw and wasn’t that _convenient_ _._ And for two years he watched the stars, wondering if they too were spirits. 

He decided they were and felt less alone.


	2. Min Yen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko makes a friend? please don't be too mean to my OC....

Zuko wasn’t the only the spirit in the forest. Of course not, forests needed hundreds of spirits to support them. Spirits for the trees and the brush, the berries and the birds. Most importantly, most powerfully, the was the spirit named for the forest itself. Hei Bai was not a peaceful spirit. Not anymore. 

Zuko got along with the other spirits. The small ones. Spirits don’t make small talk; not like how he’s seen humans do. But he knew they saw his progress and were grateful. They knew he had been sent by Great Agni to help bring back their forest. He felt it when he was planting acorns and nursing saplings, he knew the spirits of each were welcoming him. 

Hei Bai was not welcoming. His forest, his namesake, his anchor and his essence had been broken burned and scarred. The spirit was twisted and warped, no longer the peaceful forest spirit he was meant to be. He was angry, bursting at the seams with vengeance, resenting Agni and his people. He stalked through his forest, leaving sour spirits in his trail. Zuko stayed well out of his way. 

Zuko thought Hei Bai was overdramatic and foolish. The forest was healing, Zuko and the other spirits worked hard to make sure of this. Couldn’t Hei Bai see it? His forest would be okay. He didn’t have to barge into human villages each solstice and destroy. Foolish Hei Bai, forest spirits weren’t meant to destroy. There were other spirits for that. 

Zuko came to the forest two summers ago. It was the winter solstice and yet the humans couldn’t see Zuko at all. By the summer solstice he could be seen on the days before and after, and by his second winter solstice he could do so for a week on either side. Now it was nearly his third winter solstice in the forest, and he could appear whenever the sun was up. He had a feeling that wasn’t his own strength but Agni telling him he was ready to speak with humans. 

Humans had come through the forest before. Occasionally travelers would pick their way across charred wood, and village scavengers often reached the tree line just to turn away. When they got too bold with their steps, to presumptuous and unkind with the berries they picked, Zuko would throw flames warding them off. Whether they saw flame and feared the Fire Nation or had enough sense to recognize and respect spirits, Zuko was unsure. But he knew that after his first spring in the forest, fewer humans wandered through, and those who did were more reverent and reserved. He rather hoped he’d given Hei Bai forest a dangerous reputation without even speaking to a human. 

The first time Zuko spoke to a human and was heard was his first summer solstice. He’d been healing the forest, hands lit with colorful flame, when he noticed a presence. Not the usual spirit presence that wove through the layers of forest around him, a human presence. And he could feel it was watching him. 

When he looked up there was a girl staring at him from the tree line. She was young, probably a couple years younger than Zuko was when he died. She had a worn green dress on that blended with the forest around her. A forgotten basket of herbs hung from one hand as green eyes stared at Zuko in awe. 

“I’ve never seen fire like that.” The girl had said. “Are you from the Fire Nation?” She didn’t look afraid, not like the other humans had when they saw fire. 

“I am a child of Agni.” He had told her. He probably had been Fire Nation when he lived, but he couldn’t remember it so it didn’t feel fair to say so. It wouldn’t have been honest, and spirits are nothing if not honest. 

“Oh,” she said after a pause. “I am a child of Min Yen.” Zuko said nothing more, just watched her warily. “That’s my mom. She sent me to pick the rosemary.” 

He nodded. “There’s a bush a dozen yards that way,” Zuko gestured in the direction. “I’m sure if you ask nicely she will share some.” 

Zuko was baffled by the human. She seemed completely without knowledge of the spirits but still had the strong connection and was the first human who could speak to him. And she hadn’t been rude or cruel. She walked through the forest just like the toads hopped and the birds flew. When she retrieved the rosemary, her trip had been without trouble. 

Zuko sent her to a bush who was a notoriously grouchy spirit, bitter to the happenings of any world outside her bush. Yet the daughter of Min Yen returned happily with a basket full of rosemary and arms completely unscratched by brambles. And she didn’t even turn back into the forest, she just stood again at the edge and watched as Zuko uneasily returned to his task. 

“Thank you for telling me where the bush was... What’s your name?” Zuko’s fire went out abruptly and he couldn’t keep the shocked expression off his face. He jerked his head up to stare incredulously at the girl. She did not just ask for his name. What did she want? Or was she just that clueless? But she kept going, “My name is–” 

“Don’t!” Zuko cut her off. “Don’t tell me your name! Do you have any survival instincts? What are they teaching kids these days?” 

The girl sniffed and looked mildly offended when she spoke petulantly, “If I’m a kid then what are you? And I don’t see why I can’t tell you my name. I’m only being polite. You could try it sometime.” 

Zuko rolled his eyes. It couldn’t be possible to be this ignorant. “Names have power. You can’t just hand them out to anyone. If a spirit has your name, they can use it against you.” And if you know theirs, you can do the same, Zuko left out. He didn’t want to give her ideas. 

“Oh, and that’s bad right?” Her nose wrinkled in thought. “But you can’t go around assuming everyone’s a spirit. Then you’ll never tell anyone your name and what’s the point of having a name if you don’t use it? Or what if you want to be friends with a spirit but they can never know your name? And how do you know all this, are you a spirit? What happens if someone else tells a spirit my name? Oh, oh no, what if you are a spirit and I’ve already told you my mother’s name –” 

“Of course, I’m a spirit!” Zuko cut her rambling off, insulted at the very idea he was human. The girl looked at him with wide eyes, suddenly quiet and a little fearful now. Good, he thought. Maybe she has some self-preservation after all. “But there’s a difference between knowing someone’s name and being given it. Anyone could tell me your name. Only you can give it to me. Your name can only be used against you when you’ve given it away. I know your mother’s name is Min Yen, but I don’t have it. I couldn’t hurt her with it until she gave it up herself. Besides, I wouldn’t go after her anyway. I don’t chase after humans. I have better things to do.” 

And as abruptly as it had switched before, the girl’s mood was sunny and curious once again. She was so trusting it made Zuko a little sick. A thought crawled in the depths of his mind to warn her, tell her to stop being so trusting or sooner or later someone she loved would disappear in the night, vanish without explanation. He wasn’t sure where that came from. 

“Oh, that’s good! So, you’re really a spirit? But what are you going to call me if I can’t tell you my name?” 

“I’ll call you Min Yen, since it’s a name we both know but neither can give.” 

Min Yen nodded, accepting the term. “And what can I call you? I’m guessing you don’t want to give me your name either, not that I'd do anything with it.” She picked up on these things quickly. 

“You don’t need to call me anything.” Zuko wasn’t even sure why he was still talking to this girl, now that he had recovered from the shock off her asking his name. He had a job to do, she had ought to take her rosemary and go. Of course, she didn’t. 

“I’ll call you Lee. That was my grandfather’s name. He’s dead now so I don’t think he’ll mind.” She said this all with the same off-putting cheer she’d perfected in Zuko’s eyes. A dead man’s name, how fitting. 

“Okay,” was all he said. Hardly a full conversation with a human and it had already exhausted him. 

“What kind of spirit are you?” After a silence long enough for Zuko to hope the conversation was over, Min Yen spoke again. Zuko had returned to his task and didn’t bother looking up from the soil this time. 

“I don’t think I know what you mean.” There are many types of spirits. They could be classified by subject (Zuko would say healing for himself), patron (Great Agni, of course), age (infantile in spirit terms), or any number of other ways. 

“Are you good or evil?” Min Yen put it simply. Zuko rolled his eyes sharply because he learned with spirits its always anything but simple. His derision did not go unnoticed, and Min Yen continued speaking in a quick voice. “My grandparents told me stories about spirits. Nan always said to stay away from them. She claimed an evil fire spirit hid in the shadows and stole children away on the solstice. But my grandfather told me that the ocean spirit once saved his fishing boat when he was caught alone in a storm. So, which is it? Do you steal children or save boats?” 

Zuko was more than a little offended at the anecdotal assessment of spirits. Someone, probably her grandparents, had clearly failed in educating Min Yen. If she had an ounce of common sense, she would be showing him a great deal more respect. Not that Zuko really cared enough to demand it. “Your grandmother lied. Why would a fire spirit hide in shadows? They’re a fire spirit. And most of us can’t stand humans, much less children. Your grandfather lied too. The ocean spirit took a mortal form ages ago and hasn’t interfered with humans since.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question.” 

“Your ignorance on spirit matters is frankly embarrassing.” 

Min Yen puffed her cheeks out in annoyance. “Lee,” She started, dragging out the one syllable in her child’s voice. “You’re a spirit! If you know so much, why don’t you teach me?” 

“I don’t like humans.” Zuko spoke aloud but more intended to remind himself of the fact. This conversation had already gone too long in his opinion. No deal had be struck, nothing was owed to Min Yen, yet still Zuko was here. 

“I rather think most humans don’t like you,” Min Yen said hotly. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” He abandoned the pretense of his work and glared up at the girl. 

“Well Lee, you’ve been mean to me this entire time. It’s not my fault I don’t know about spirits! If you’re like this with every human I can imagine why you live in the forest alone.” 

“I haven’t even met any other humans! And I don’t even want to! I don’t need the company of mortals! Why would I want to spend time with humans when all you do is hurt and destroy and leave giant scars all over the place!” Red flames flickered in Zuko’s palms, climbing up his arms earnestly the way they always did when he got riled up. Something in the girl’s words was really agitating him. Something about being abandoned, or disliked, or... unloved. He’s not sure where this came from, it’s not like he’d ever felt unwanted. The spirit world had always made him feel welcomed, if a bit peculiar. 

Min Yen had fallen silent, and stood very still, watching the red –just red– flames carefully. And when Zuko looked into her eyes he found something achingly familiar. The reflection of his furious red flames danced in fearful green eyes in a way that Zuko knew very well. 

His flames stuttered out a second later as he was swept up in a memory –a real memory, his first one since waking. He remembered scarlet flames; a cruel hand full of them wrapping around his own small wrist. The same spot that Zuko’s spirit form still had a scar today. And he remembered pain, real human pain that guaranteed this memory was from when he was alive. But most clearly, he remembered the girl watching him. Her face was paler, features sharper, and she must have been several years younger than Min Yen, but the flames and fear reflected was the same. He remembers reaching for the girl. Telling her that it’s alright, he’s alright, please, stop crying, or you’ll get in trouble too... 

When the memory faded Zuko was back in the spirit world, standing atop the mountain where he first met Agni. He stayed there until the solstice must have ended in the other world, rubbing his wrist and meditating on the memory. Nothing more came back to him, yet he couldn’t shake the image of the girl’s face in his mind, the sound of his own voice pleading with her. 

Min Yen was long gone by the time Zuko returned to the forest. Zuko spared a thought only for how very mystical the whole experience must have been for the child. She stumbled across a rude fire spirit, named it after her dead grandfather, and proceeded to watch as it vanished in a furious puff of smoke. He certainly didn’t expect to ever see her again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave me any kind of feedback in the comments! this includes where you think the story will go because I honestly haven't planned very far ahead and would love some ideas...


	3. Anniversaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The winter solstice approaches marking one year since the wildfire that scarred the forest and Zuko's subsequent arrival in Hei Bai, as well as two years since his death.

Now he knew these memories existed somewhere inside him that he couldn’t quite reach, which was a very different thing from having no memories at all. The idea that they could come back haunted him throughout his weeks in the forest. It was simultaneously enchanting and horrifying. He had to reconcile his fears of what remembering might cost him, with the price he had already paid to forgetting. 

If there was one memory inside him, there had to be more. He had been human, of course Zuko had known this, but to remember it was another thing in itself. And the only memory of humanity that he had to hold was one of pain. It was a lot to work through. Good thing Zuko had nothing but time. 

He shoved fire into the dead earth each day and wondered who had hurt him. 

He spoke to the animal spirits in the dusk and thought of the girl in his memory, the one he’d tried to protect. Who was she? What happened to her after Zuko was gone? 

He stared up at the stars and asked them if there was anyone left in the world who remember Zuko, the human. 

The stars had no answer, of course. 

Time passed; summer faded into autumn. Trees around him changed their colors as the forest quieted around him, settling into slumber. Zuko thought nothing of it, it was not his first year there. He no longer watched the changes in awe, not like he had when he first witnessed it. 

He thought no more of the girl he’d met on the solstice. Nor the village nearby that she must have hailed from. 

That is, he didn’t think if her until she returned to where they’d met. Starting a few weeks after they met, Zuko found Min Yen standing on the edge of the forest, the line between what he’d healed and what he had yet to. She did not do much more than stand there, watching, looking for something. It wasn’t until Zuko heard her call out the name Lee, that he realized she was looking for him. 

She couldn’t see him, of course. Zuko was still very young, and too weak a spirit to appear to humans that far from the solstices. But Zuko didn’t throw flames at her like he would at other humans. When people got too bold or too comfortable in the forest, he took it upon himself to ward them off. This forest was not theirs, not after how badly the humans had mistreated it. They were all the same, all they did was take, take, take, and burn. 

His memory proved that too. Humans couldn’t even be trusted with each other, he thought of the grip seared onto his arm. He definitely couldn’t trust them with something as great and sacred as a forest. 

Except Min Yen. She didn’t take, and she definitely didn’t burn. 

She couldn’t see Zuko, but he could see her. He could see how she walked through the trees. How her bare feet stepped lightly around young saplings fighting to grow, as if they somehow knew which plants could bare her weight and which would be crushed by it. 

He saw how, even without further instruction from Zuko, Min Yen asked each bush politely before she harvested herbs. And how none of the spirits denied her. 

And he thought that she was different, not like the other humans that only knew how to hurt. And that maybe, there were others like her. Maybe, just maybe, not all humans were a plague on the world. 

Just most of them. 

Zuko didn’t let her presence keep him from his task. He still used his fire to heal the earth and he knew she could see the spirit flames but not the spirit himself. So, she would watch. 

He supposed it must be interesting for a human to see. Without Zuko himself being visible, the girl must have just seen the ground set a live by colorful flames, unlike any other in her limited experience. And maybe she could see the ground responding too. The way the forest line slowly crept farther into the burnt clearing, gradually shrinking the damaged section. 

Sometimes she would speak to him. It started out as just a confirmation that the grouchy spirit she met was really still there, even if he could not be seen. She’d asked Lee to throw fire at the sky if he was there. Zuko did, of course, though he didn’t really know why. 

Each time after she confirmed his presence, Min Yen would sit on a stump and chatter inanely for a couple hours. Zuko could never respond, not even to ask her to shut up. But he didn’t really mind. 

His work had turned tedious very quickly since he arrived in the forest and the chatter was not entirely unwelcome. He found himself actually listening to what the girl would tell him. Min Yen did not seem put off at all by his inability to respond. That girl had too many words inside her head, Zuko thought she was just looking for any outlet to pour them into. 

She went on about her mother, who was training her in medicine, and all the bothersome studying she had. Sometimes she brought the book with her and read aloud the different remedies she was meant to memorize. 

Or she spoke of the other children from the village. She wanted her friends to come and meet Zuko too, but they were too afraid to follow her into the forest. Min Yen disliked how fearful they were, especially since they told on her to her mother. Min Yen’s visits reduced to only one day a week after that, she said that it was much harder to sneak into the forest when her mother was on look out. Zuko thought her mother sounded very wise for not letting her daughter talk to spirits alone, but Min Yen clearly didn’t see it that way. 

Once she came with scrapes and bruises and lamented the older boys that liked to push her around for no good reason. Zuko felt a protective urge at that and was half tempted to find these boys and light their pants on fire. But he didn’t think that would be very welcome, and it’s not like he could ask her. 

Instead, Zuko had another idea. He thought of the way he could smooth over the scars in the earth, healing with spirit fire. And he cradled the same gentle flames in his hand and approached Min Yen carefully. When she didn’t flinch away, only watched the fire with wide eyes, he pressed it cautiously to the largest scrape on her knee. To his satisfaction, the fire had the same effect. The flames were absorbed into her skin without burning, and he could feel them pulling out the hurt and knitting the pieces back together. When he pulled away, her knee was whole again. 

Min Yen was in awe after he did so. She started asking a million questions that Zuko couldn’t answer. Asking what else could spirits do and why did that fire feel so weird, while still staring at her knee. Upon closer inspection, Zuko could see that there was a faint scar left behind, but it wasn’t pink or white like most scars. Not even red like Zuko’s own. No, the faded memory of the scrape on her knee was an unnatural gold, the unmistakable mark of a spirit’s touch. 

The gold reminded him of Agni, of the shiny golden rippling of his dragon form in flight. Or the sun, in the hour before in set, and the way its rays came at angle, casting the tops of trees in its golden light. But it also reminded him of something else, something he didn’t remember. Not yet. 

Zuko didn’t see Min Yen for a while after that incident. The day that he healed her was four weeks before the winter solstice, and she didn’t enter the forest once in those four weeks. Zuko even asked the other spirits, those that traveled near the village, to keep an eye out for her. But there was no sign of the girl. 

Zuko had a feeling that it was his own fault. It was unwise of him to heal the girl; he hated humans. And they hurt each other all the time, his single memory could certainly attest to that. Why should he intervene in what was so clearly just a facet of human nature? 

Except that wasn’t really what bothered him about her absence. The truth was that he had done this when his flames had left that scar. One look at her knee, and there was no denying that Min Yen was spirit-touched now. He had done that. And Zuko really couldn’t fathom what parent, in their right mind, would let their daughter out of their sight after she came home marked by a spirit. 

Zuko found himself feeling guilt over it. The girl that walked so gently through the forest, spoke so kindly to bushes but endearingly rudely to fire spirits, would not be coming back. His mistake had shut out the one human that he deemed worthy of respect. 

More than that, Zuko missed her. Somewhere within her relentless chatter, Min Yen had managed to persuade Zuko, jaded fire spirit that he was, to care about her. This realization put Zuko in a weird mood in the weeks leading up to the winter solstice. He didn’t know what to do with the fact that a human had wormed its way onto the very limited list of things Zuko cared about. 

There was also the matter of his memories, still weighing on his mind. Nothing more had come back to him, but the itch of something missing had grown steadily stronger. More and more, he would look at something and know that he was reminded of something, but not remember what it was. The lack of this knowledge had gone from entirely bearable to glaringly obvious. 

Min Yen had been his distraction from the itch of his lost memories. Her chatter pulled his mind to other things, and most of the subjects of her ramblings inspired no hint of familiarity in his mind. He could only assume that they’d had very different childhoods. 

But now Min Yen was gone and Zuko was left alone with his hollow mind once more. And the itch only grew stronger. The gold scar, a color that he knew more intimately than he knew the sunset. It stayed in the back of his mind beside his only whole memory. Next to them was also the feeling of loss that Min Yen’s absence brought up. There was that itch of familiarity when he thought of someone disappearing without saying goodbye. Losing someone he cared about. 

Zuko wasn’t the only spirit in the forest with a bad mood as the solstice approached. It would be his second winter solstice in the forest, and mark two full years since his death. This weighed heavily on him, the anniversary of everything he had both lost and gained. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the darkening of the other spirits until it was too late. 

For the solstice was not only the second anniversary of Zuko’s death, but it was also the first anniversary of the wildfire that destroyed the forest. All the spirits felt it, Zuko included. But it was felt most strongly by those who had been there the longest, who had the deepest connection to the forest and had felt the pain of the fire more than the others. These spirits withdrew into themselves, mourning what had been lost. 

With the major spirits neglecting their duties, the forest fell still. The wildlife and balance of it was thrown astray, and the lesser spirits like Zuko could do very little to fix it. Zuko was not so affected due to his spiritual anchor being separate from the forest. But on the other side of it, he could do little to help because he was still somewhat of an outsider to the rest. 

The most urgent problem the solstice turned up was the violent spirit Hei Bai. The strongest spirit of the forest, and the one most deeply changed by the burn. Hei Bai was rotten, soured by the wildfire, and the anniversary only heightened it. The stronger and older spirits of the forest besides Hei Bai had worked to keep him in check on previous solstices, but with the sorrow of the anniversary they failed to do so. And the winter solstice only promised trouble, now that the line between the spirits and humans only grew thinner. 

Zuko only realized the issue, so caught up in his thoughts, the week of the solstice. The week that the veil between worlds was thin enough for Hei Bai to leave the forest and enter the nearby Senlin village. Zuko didn’t see it happen, he was in another part of the forest entirely, but he heard about it through the other spirits. The spirit of the forest itself had taken revenge on the humans who had failed to protect him. They warned him to stay clear of Hei Bai, who was violent and vengeful, and the spirits knew that as a fire spirit, Zuko would be given no mercy. 

Zuko was frustrated by the spirit Hei Bai. This destruction was so clearly against his nature. Forest spirits were meant to grow and help each other; they were spirits of balance and creation. Not violent destruction. Couldn’t Hei Bai see that his actions only drove the forest further from itself? That taking revenge was in itself a violent act against the forest and its spirits? 

But beyond that, Zuko was jealous. He knew how much he had in common with Hei Bai. How they had both been burned. And how they had both been innocents amid the destruction. Zuko had been a child when the burn on his face killed him. Hei Bai was a peaceful forest spirit, uninvolved in human wars when the humans attacked. Yes, there were definitely similarities in their stories, so Zuko understood the desire for revenge. 

Thinking of the scars he carried, the pain of the only memory he had, Zuko understood revenge. He did not want it, he told himself he did not want it. But how much of that was just that he knew he could never have it? Because what was the use of wanting something you know you cannot have? 

Zuko knew pain, and betrayal, and loss, he was sure. But he did not remember who had hurt him, betrayed him, who he had lost. When so many pieces of the puzzle are missing, revenge wasn’t even worth the thought. 

Yet, he watched the forest spirit take out all of the forest’s pain, betrayal, and loss on the village. And he couldn’t help but give revenge a thought. 

And he thought of Min Yen, who he hadn’t seen in weeks. She was a child, separate and uncorrupted by the rest of humanity’s failures. Human, but moved through the forest like she belonged, befriended spirits for no good reason. And Zuko remember that he, too, had been a child once. Had he been like her, as a human? Had he watched, wide eyed and innocent as fire flew towards his face? 

And he thought of everything that had happened for him to be where he was. He had died a human. A child, like Min Yen. More than that, he had been killed. And even before that, he’d already known pain, if the older scars on his arms and shoulders were to be believed. He’d had a life like Min Yen’s. He'd had a mother, and probably a father too. Maybe even more family than that, like siblings or grandparents. Friends too, surely. People that would’ve missed him. That perhaps still miss him. 

Thinking of everything that he had lost, Zuko understood revenge. And he could only resent Hei Bai for the ease at which the spirit took its own compared to the impossibility that was Zuko’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a direct correlation between kudos/comments and the probability of an update. Also, sorry that not much happened this chapter. I know you're looking forward to the arrival of the gang and Iroh, but I'm waiting for the canon timeline to start. In the meantime, Zuko has a lot of angst about dying to work through.
> 
> Next Chapter: the rest of this solstice, and some ~memories~


End file.
